


and i still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

by notalone91



Series: LoserFest 2021 [10]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Eddie Kaspbrak & Stanley Uris Are Dead, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Memorials, Misery Loves Company, One Year Later, One-Sided Relationship, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Suicidal Thoughts, Wakes & Funerals, anniversary of defeating It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29347830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91
Summary: On the one year anniversary of their triumph over Pennywise, The Losers head back to Derry to finally mourn their loved ones.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough & Mike Hanlon & Ben Hanscom & Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak & The Losers Club, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & Stanley Uris
Series: LoserFest 2021 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138544
Kudos: 12





	and i still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Day 10: Based On A Track From Folklore (My Tears Ricochet)

Without a body, funerals are a tricky thing. By merit of what they’d had to do, they missed Stan’s by a long shot. Eddie’s wife had insisted that, without a body, she simply wouldn’t believe that he was gone. The Losers knew better. They’d seen it firsthand. A year went by and they never got the chance to mourn their friends. On the first anniversary of their triumph, they decided on one final visit to Derry. An In Memoriam for their fallen numbers. 

Each of the remaining Losers shared their piece, gathered in a circle on the ground in the barrens, just like they had the day they discussed what Bev saw in the deadlights. Ben sat with one arm protectively around Bev, this time, her hands resting low on her belly. She spoke about Eddie’s willingness to try new things with her and how much she hated knowing that she wouldn’t have someone to fuss over her health every time they saw each other until the baby came. Bill and Richie looked at each other, stunned, while Mike skidded across the circle to hug her. Ben talked about how much he owed Eddie for the emergency care when they were kids and lamented that he would never be able to talk to him about their shared love of taking things apart and putting them back together, but how every time he worked on his car, he thought of Eddie.

Mike was the first to completely lose it. His memories were more apologies. For calling them, for not trying to make things easier. Not knowing what to do, Bill slid in closer so that Mike was between his legs. He held him and comforted him as he sobbed out his goodbyes. He spoke to Stan and then to Eddie like they were in the circle with them, because in part they always would be. Any time they would all get together, there would be two empty seats. He then thanked them, and all of the still-living Losers, for welcoming them in with open arms when they could so easily have iced him out like the rest of the town did. 

Reaching down into his jacket pocket and pulling out a flask, swigging from it subtly and hiding it again, Richie tried to avoid the fact that it was quickly approaching what would inevitably be his turn. He let Ben pull him in under his other arm and relaxed as Bill spoke.

For an author, Bill’s memories weren’t poetic. They weren’t heartfelt. The dude was angry. Eddie was his first friend in the world. Stan and Richie weren’t too far behind. The four of them were supposed to be cradle to the grave. They’d had so much time stolen and he was pissed. Now, whatever time was left, they weren’t there. Eddie was supposed to be the best man at his wedding. That had been decided on the day they learned what weddings were. Sure, he’d already had one wedding, but he and Mike were getting close to their wedding date and Eddie wouldn’t be there. And Stan wouldn’t be there. And that wasn’t fucking fair. He chanced a glance at Richie who was picking at the seam of his pants by his knee. Bill just shook his head. Even when they couldn’t remember each other, the world had felt balanced. The world without them in it didn’t seem right. And worse, Stan had done it to himself. He knew it wasn’t exactly that simple, but he was still just so mad. 

Richie understood that. He grabbed the flask again, sipped it, then palmed it over to Bill who nodded gratefully.

That just left him, then. Richie cleared his throat and nestled a little harder against Ben who adjusted fluidly, holding him a little tighter.

“So, this fucking sucks for everyone, then.” They all nodded at him and he looked down. “It’s been hard. I’ve-” he cleared his throat again, then closed his eyes. “Stanley was my best friend and Eddie-” his throat constricted threateningly and he wondered if he was developing some form of sympathetic psychosomatic asthma. “Eddie was my other half. He was my partner in crime. I think it’s safe to say that you all were aware that I was in love with him.” Bill averted his eyes. “You probably knew before I did,” he said, landing a light kick to Bill’s foot, “and that’s okay. It just hurts. All the time,” he admitted. His breath hitched and suddenly he realized he was crying. “I will miss Stanley until the day I die, but missing Eddie makes me want to.” Beverly’s breath hitched, crying herself by then. He nodded toward his flask. “I’m only telling you guys because I know you know and I know you talk about how to help me, but that flask isn’t the first one I’ve had today. It won’t be the last. It’s day in and day out and it’s the only thing that helps. Sometimes,” he said, voice hoarse, “sometimes, I think if I can get myself drunk enough, I’ll see them. And I know that’s crazy and I know that’s not how it works, but I’m getting desperate.” Avoiding the steady stream of tears on Mike and Bill’s faces, he looked down at the ground for focus. He cleared his throat and redirected his thought process. “Stanley was the funniest person I knew and he never even had to try. He cared so much about everyone and everything. He was gentle and smart and I wanted his approval constantly.” Bill laughed. He knew that was true. “He never played along with my shit, but he was quick to give it back.” He looked up at Bill and smiled, shaking his head. “Eddie was different. He was my same. I gave him hell and he gave it right back. He was my partner in crime and my confidant,” he shook his head. Now, he’d done it. The fat drips onto the top of his head signified that Ben had started crying, too. He hadn’t meant for it to happen by any means, but he supposed there was a certain comfort in it. At least he wasn’t crying alone. “When we were at the Chinese restaurant, all I could think was that I was never letting him out of my sight again. Then, I turned my back. And now he’s gone.” He reached his hand out to Bill, asking for the flask back which was promptly given. “I loved him. And, uh, I told him. That night at the inn.” Bill’s eyes widened. Ben looked down at him, too. “Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “And, we were- He-” He stammered over it. He pulled his legs up into his chest and nodded. “He loved me, too. And now, we don’t even get a chance-”

Richie broke down into ugly, wrenching sobs. Ben rubbed small, comforting circles on his back as he cried. Somehow, once again, he found himself in the middle of an old fashioned Losers Club dogpile. This time, he couldn’t even joke his way out of it. 

They stayed there, quietly remembering their friends for hours, until the late summer afternoon grew colder and they started to retreat to their hotel, not the townhouse this time. Richie had headed to his room first. He sat there and started to drink his way through the bottle he’d brought with him. He got a good 3 fingers in, before there was a knock. Then another. “Rich? Are you in there?” 

It was Ben. Of course, it was. 

“Come on, man, open up,” came a second, deliberately steady voice. Ben and Bill. Great. Just what he needed. 

There was another knock. After a decent chunk of time wherein he could have sworn he heard a third voice, they knocked again. “You more or less said that you were going to drink yourself to death, so you understand that we’re coming in one way or the other,” Ben said. “I’ll go get Mike and the three of us will break this door down.”

Richie sighed and stood up, putting the bottle on the desk and undoing the chain. He stepped into the bathroom and out of the way of the door. “I’m n-not losing you, too.”

He felt his heart break a little more. Hearing Bill so worried was never something he liked to hear. Bill wasn’t supposed to worry. He was supposed to know what to do. He was supposed to be leading the cavalry. Richie took a deep breath and sighed, flicking the door handle enough that the combined weight of his friends sent them tumbling into the entrance. “What would you two have done if I was taking a shit and you broke the door down?”

“Elvis od’d on a toilet,” Ben said, sitting up immediately and getting to his feet. “You’re not above Elvis, are you?”

Richie gave an empty smile on a curled lip. “Well, thank you. Thank you, very much.” He reached down to help Bill off the floor and rolled his eyes. “Can I interest you in a loaf of Fool’s Gold?” His Elvis needed work, that much was sure.

With a gentle shove, Bill and Ben let themselves into the room unceremoniously and dragged him along with. “How can we help?” Ben asked quietly.

Bill put a single finger up and added, “No bullshit, either.”

“Is a threesome off the table,” Richie joked, lighting a cigarette and sticking his hand out the window. 

Shaking their heads, it was clear that that was a hard no then. “You don’t have to save face, you know?” Bill said, moving into the chair in the corner. “We miss them, too, but you’re still here, Richie. We have to take care of you.”

That was a mouthful. Like he was some charity case. The idiot little brother. “No, I’ll live, unfortunately.”

“Would you stop with that?” Ben winced, flopping down across the foot of the bed.

He took a long drag and then exhaled the smoke out the window. “It’s not that bad. I’m just-”

“J-just what, Richie? Passively k-killing yourself?” Bill asked, kicking at him gently, concern wrinkling his brow.

“This is nothing. You should have seen me ten years ago,” he laughed, taking another puff then chasing it with a belt of Bourbon straight from the bottle. 

Bill shook his head. “You don’t remember, do you?” 

Richie eyed him curiously. “I don’t remember much from that period in time, thank you very much,” he said, taking one last drag then flicking the butt out the window. “That’s not Derry either. That’s leftover from party favors.”

“Didn’t you date Cici Bochenski in the early 2000’s?” Bill asked, knowing the answer well. Apparently, though, Ben had missed that memo. He mouthed the name out in shock, earning him a smack from Bill.

He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. “Yeah. She was fun,” he laughed. “Different. Wild, but-”

Bill rolled his eyes. “And weren’t you her date for the premiere for that weird cult horror movie she was in?”

“I guess. We did a lot of that-”

He pushed Richie’s legs so he had no option but to face him. “And didn’t someone track you down at said party because they thought you’d be great for a character in an upcoming adaptation of their first book and you were exactly what the author had in mind but you were so trashed that you decided, instead, to take your girlfriend over to the table where a pretty redhead was chain-smoking and hit her up for a threesome only to find out that she was said author’s wife.” Richie blanched. He didn’t remember the night at all. But he was picking up what Bill was putting down. “And instead of showing any remorse, you said that you were open to whatever and planted one on the author instead?”

Trying to make it less obvious that he was being lectured, he asked flippantly, “Did they?” It wasn’t likely, he knew, but it would be a funny anecdote for him to not remember, given everything else that had happened.

“No, Richie, my ex-wife and I didn’t fuck you and your girlfriend.”

Richie moved his head from side to side, thoughtfully. “Would have made sense, given the juxtaposition of-”

“Will you shut the hell up? And stop asking to have group sex with me! It’s not going to happen, dickhead!” He laughed, chucking the still wrapped coffee supplies at him in rapid succession. Eventually, the three of them calmed back down and he remembered his point. “I remember what fucked up Richie was like firsthand. We orbited a lot of the same circles back then. I don’t want to see you back there.”

Ben was watching the entire interaction carefully, with a couple of guarded glances to either side of him. “I don’t remember fucked up Richie, but I do remember the Richie who was happy he met me before he died. And I remember how hard Eddie and Stan worked to keep you from ending up in an early grave because of something stupid when we were young. And I know that Eddie would hate to see you like this, especially without being able to lecture you and nurse you back to health. I didn’t need to hear either of you say it to know that you loved each other. It was obvious from day one.”

Breathlessly, Richie struggled for what to say. “Fuck. I’m just…” he rubbed his eyes with his fists, wondering when he’d started crying again. “Maybe Mike has it right. Just be fucking mad at them.” He walked away from the wall and stood in the center of the room, staring at the ceiling. “Fuck you, Eds. You fucking left me here. You left me here and now I don’t get to know what it’s like to have you. I came so fucking close and now…” He closed his eyes and touched the pads of his fingers to his lips gently. “I miss you. All the time and you’re not fucking here.”

His friends stayed with him until he went to sleep, flipped the deadbolt to hold the door open, then quietly slipped into the hallway where they found themselves face to face with Eddie.

“Thank you, guys. Please take care of him,” he said. There were tears glowing in his eyes. 

Bill would never get used to this Eddie, nearly grayscale and not quite whole, almost looking out of step with reality. Ben, on the other hand, hardly noticed the difference.

“Are you gonna stay with him tonight?” he asked, gesturing toward the door.

Eddie nodded and swallowed dryly. “Of course. If it’s the only chance I have-” The rest went unspoken. It went without saying. “You guys leave tomorrow, right?” They nodded in unison. It was strange, he thought. It had been a year, but all the same, it felt like one long day and a thousand years since they’d left. “I love you guys. All of you. But, you have to help him move on. Don’t let him come back here, Bill. Please?” he asked imploringly.

It went without saying. Eddie was as much a brother to him as Georgie. He’d do anything he asked. Still, he had to make sure. “Are you going to be okay? I don’t want to leave-”

“I’m stuck in Derry alone. What the fuck do you think?” Eddie groaned, rolling his eyes and folding his arms.

Mouth hanging wide open, Ben stammered, “It’s not-” he trailed off and looked around. “There aren’t others?

“No. No, I’m alone,” he said, sadly, looking at Bill. If Stan was here, or Georgie, he knew that Bill would have moved heaven and Earth to bring them back. “You two are the first ones who could-”

As if on cue, Bill interjected, “Why don’t you come with us? Maybe we can figure out what it means. Maybe it can be undone.”

Eddie shook his head. “Bill, you need to let me go, too.” He reached out to clap his arm fondly, then remembered that he couldn’t and quickly withdrew. “You all do.” He chose to leave Especially Richie out of it.

He didn’t have to. Ben may as well have heard his thoughts. “He never will.”

“I know,” he sighed, “But he has to.” Ben and Bill nodded, then quickly retreated to their rooms, leaving Eddie to his night.

When he got into Richie’s room, he closed the door quietly and turned to where Richie lay in the king-sized bed. Lit only by the TV, he seemed even more pale than he thought he looked earlier. “God, how do you watch this shit? Do you really need to know what housewife is leaving her husband or whatever the fuck-” he said, easing himself into the bed, still thrown by the lack of effect he had on material, then glanced up at the TV. “Oh. He’s hot. I get it now.”

From beside him, Richie grumbled, “Yeah, I could have told you that, asshole.” 

If Eddie’s heart still beat, it would have stopped. “What?” he whispered, looking over at him. He looked asleep. He seemed out cold, actually.

Comfortingly, he snored, then said “None of them are as cute as you, though.”

Eddie blushed. “Richie, who are you talking to?” he asked, placing his hand on top of Richie’s arm, knowing he’d never feel it.

“You, Eduardo,” he said, rolling onto his back as he let out an even deeper snore.

“No, no, nonono. You’re not supposed to-”

“I know. Your mom hates me and you’re grounded but I missed you, so, here I am,” he said quietly, almost imperceptibly. 

Then, it dawned on Eddie. He must have been dreaming of him, but on some plane, he heard him, and on that plane, they could talk. One last time. “She’s gonna kill you if she catches you,” he said, snuggling down next to him.

“Come home with me, then,” Richie said. He had asked him at least weekly when they were young. 

For a moment, he almost wished he had. It would have been worth the grounding and the inevitable doctor's visits just for the chance to be with him that much longer. Instead, he gave the answer he knew he must have given at the time. “I can’t. I have to-” his voice warbled traitorously. Tears broke from his eyes and rolled down his face. “I have to stay here, Richie. I wish I could. I just want to be with you.” That had been true when they were teens and it was even more true then.

Rolling onto his side, Richie was so close that Eddie could imagine his breath tickling his ear. “One day. One day, we’ll get out of Derry and it’ll just be us. You watch.”

“One day,” he sniffed, a phantom pain in his chest forming as he spoke. “But you have to promise me something.”

In a voice much more akin to a yawn, Richie answered, “Anything.”

“You have to stay clean,” he said, trying fruitlessly to pull him close. He sighed in frustration. “You’re gonna be a huge star, Rich. And no matter what happens, don’t be one of those assholes who drink themselves to death by the time they’re 45,” he warned. He couldn’t bear it. Not that he’d ever know, he presumed, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Richie self-destructing.

Sounding all of fifteen, he murmured, “I won’t. I promise.”

It would have been so easy to pretend that it was 1993 and they were in his childhood bed. It would have been so easy to pretend that it was whatever day it really was and they were just in a bed they could call theirs. He would have left Derry with Richie. He would have done anything to stay with him. The one thing he couldn’t do was hold on long enough for them to get him out. He took a deep breath and willed himself to squeeze Richie as tightly as he could. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Eds,” Richie mumbled, pulling himself as close as he could. Eddie looked down at him. How the hell had he done that. Bill had reached right through him. How- “Always have, always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little dark, I'm sorry. I just really love this song for them and it's an almost involuntary train of thought now. But at least it's out of my system, now. Also, big s/o to stvrmora on youtube because I know that they did a vid to this song ages ago because I found it shortly after I first started looking for just that in like... August or September.


End file.
